


Pinky Promise

by YeeeCawww



Series: Promises Promises [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Family, Gen, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeeeCawww/pseuds/YeeeCawww
Summary: Raven only smiled mischievously down at her. "My name's Raven."Ruby, a hand rising to cover her mouth, gasped dramatically. "That's another type of bird."
Series: Promises Promises [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028182
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Pinky Promise

When the sun dawned high and warm upon the Branwen Tribe, it arrived too late to catch the majority of the men and women off guard. Many of them had already been up for hours, preparing the camp for daily duties. The cooks started fires for breakfast, and the guards rotated shifts, keeping their eyes constantly alert for signs of Grimm. The younger, less capable members of the tribe were given the task of ensuring the footpaths remained clear of any debris, natural or otherwise. Multiple scouting parties had already come and gone from various directions, delivering reports of possible marks that could be carried out that day or later. Let it never be said that bandits were lazy. Rather, let it never be said that _Raven’s_ bandits were lazy.

The leader of the Branwen Tribe herself had been up far longer than almost anyone in the tribe as it was, even if she hadn’t left her tent. She had her morning meditations to complete. The stretches kept her limber, and the daily maintenance to _Omen_ kept her dangerous. A few years ago, she had added a morning dose of tea to her routine, and she tried very hard not to miss it these days. Without it, she tended to lose control of her temper easier. Which, itself, wasn’t something she minded, but she wasn’t seventeen anymore. These days, it simply wasn’t practical to take her anger out on anyone or anything in her immediate vicinity.

And, if her lengthy morning meditations kept her from having to suffer the inane babble of her tribesman for a bit longer, well no one had seen fit to call her on it yet. For it was no sooner than she had let the flap of her tent fall behind her that she was accosted by all manner of men and women in need of deliberation from their fearless leader. The scouts had long since learned to bring their reports directly to her, but Raven had likewise come to expect that they each expected a fairly immediate decision on how they were to proceed, which itself took no small amount of time. The cooks almost always complained about the quality of game the hunters brought in, and that was after the rest of the tribesmen had complained about the quality of last night’s roast.

Standing where she was now, underneath the early morning sun with an overexcited teenager doing his best to explain to her why it was such a _good idea_ to send a raiding party to the nearby, heavily populated, well-defended village, Raven resisted a sigh. There were times, she thought – not many, but there _were_ times – she envied her brother for having escaped this madness. Those times were brief, though. The annoyances of leadership were still leagues better than the indignities of servitude.

“Raven!” She turned. Another scout was running up on her, this one a woman – an older, surer, more experienced woman by far than the overzealous boy currently occupying her time. Raven arched an imperious eyebrow at her, and she waved around a crumpled piece of paper in response. “You’ll want to see this.”

Raven nodded once at her and returned her attention to the boy. He had not even stopped babbling about his plan when she’d turned away from him. He did at least have some sense of awareness at least, clamping his mouth shut obediently when she raised a hand to stop him. “Keep the plan in your back pocket, Cole, but do _not_ do anything without my approval.” Raven peered down at him, happy the boy was on the shorter side. She was perfectly capable of intimidating a man taller than her, of course, but, frankly, it hurt to stand on her tiptoes for that long. Cole nodded, his shoulder length, black locks bouncing against his cheeks and shoulders. Raven dismissed him with a wave, turning again to face her newest petitioner. “What have you got?”

The woman’s name was Opal, and she had been with the tribe since Raven was a child – indeed, since before it was the _Branwen_ Tribe. Tucking a strand of cyan hair behind her ear, Opal flattened out the crumpled ball of paper in her hand, smoothing it out against the flat of her palm. Raven plucked it from her grip, scanning it quickly with attentive, red eyes. She had found that it was always quicker to read over any proffered documentation herself. The scouts tended to ramble in their storytelling.

It didn’t take long before Raven’s eyes narrowed. “How did you get this?”

Something like a mischievous smirk flashed across Opal’s face. “A girl has her ways.”

Raven arched her brow appraisingly, matching the woman’s expression with an amused smile of her own. It faded from her face, though as she passed the paper back into her hands. “What do you want me to do with it?” she asked, none too brusquely as she set a lazy pace in the direction of the cook’s tent. She hadn’t had breakfast yet.

Opal wasted precious seconds darting her eyes back and forth between Raven and the paper, prompting a mad dash as she rushed to catch up to her. “I want you to use it,” she said, pushing the paper back in her direction again.

Raven spared the crumpled paper only one more glance before turning a disparaging look onto her companion. How it was possible that one of her most experienced scouts had brought a plan more outlandish than the one young Cole had proposed to her, she didn’t know, but she was not prepared to entertain it. Within Opal’s hands was a manifest for an Atlas prisoner transfer. There was no flight plan included – only a list of prisoners – but Opal wouldn’t have brought it to her if it wasn’t feasibly within range to intercept. Still, geography was _not_ the pressing issue in the idea.

“I’m not interested in involving myself with the White Fang.” There were four names on the paper, all marked with that egotistically imperious ‘F’ beside their name – Atlas’ _efficiency_ in action.

Opal shook her head. “I’m not trying to _involve_ us with them. Just…trying to curry good favor.” Raven’s disparaging look only deepened, causing Opal to flush. She tapped repeatedly at the paper with her finger. “Look, the top name on this list. Booker Belladonna. _Belladonna!_ That’s Ghira’s cousin.”

Raven paused. Ghira Belladonna. Leader of the White Fang. The idea _did_ have merit. Raven shook her head. “No.”

Opal groaned. “Raven–”

“Even _if_ I had a desire to ‘curry favor’ with the White Fang – which I _don’t_ – I’m not interested in pitting our men against Atlas’ military.” Raven looked at her very deliberately. “They’d lose.”

Opal grumbled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, oh fearless leader.”

Raven turned on her, her mouth open and a retort on her lips…only for no sound to emerge. Her hand was raised, her finger pointed rigidly in Opal’s direction as if in emphasis of a point that had not been said. Raven’s mouth remained open, but it did not move. She was rigid. Frozen. Except for her eyes, which were working wildly, darting about in confusion and unease.

Opal leaned back. “Raven?” she tried uneasily.

 _“Shhhh!”_ Raven hissed, regaining control over herself in an instant.

She blinked. She blinked again. What was that? She’d been fine. She _was_ fine. Everything was fine! Why, then was everything not? There was something…off. Almost unconsciously, Raven’s hand rose, massaging lightly at her chest, just above her heart. She felt an…itch. A scratch. A chip. Something was there that only moments ago had not been. No. No, that wasn’t it, she realized. Something was _gone_ that had been there only moments ago. Raven’s eyes widened fractionally before narrowing into thin slits.

Her blade cut through the air, unsheathed in a moment of liquid movement that was so fast, Opal had not even seen her do it. She cut through the air in a motion so practiced, it was practically second nature. How many times had she done exactly this? How many times had she seen the result? How many times had it failed her? Raven stared at the empty air in abject shock. There was nothing. It wasn’t there. Her portal hadn’t opened. Her portals always opened.

 _“Summer,”_ she whispered brokenly. Raven’s left eye twitched. Summer. She’d lost her connection to Summer. Only one thing could break her connections.

“Raven?” Opal tried again, much slower this time. She was moving slowly around her, slightly hunched and altogether stiff as she moved into Raven’s direct sight. It was as if she was circling a wild, wounded animal. Which wasn’t all that far from the truth.

Quick as a flash, _Omen_ slid back into its sheath and was replaced by Raven’s scroll, beaten and weathered though it was. The scroll had been standard issue when she’d entered Beacon, given to students for use in identification. She had never updated it, having never had a reason to. It only had three contacts in it. Raven’s thumb hovered briefly over her name, but she couldn’t will herself to dial. She couldn’t press her thumb down. She scrolled down, thumbing Qrow’s name. A transcript of their past messages popped into view. They’d last spoken seven months ago, a terse ‘happy birthday’. It had been eight months before that, that they had traded a word. It had been many more years than that, that she had spoken to either of the other two.

Raven’s thumbs fidgeted over the letters, unused to texting. She hadn’t done it liberally since she was a teenager. Within moments, her message was written and sent. _‘What happened?’_ Raven tapped the edge of her scroll against her palm agitatedly. Her eyes were far away, and her nostrils were flaring with every inhalation of deep breath. Her left shoulder was twitching idly. That…itch. That scratch. That chip. It wouldn’t leave. She felt…broken, lacking something she had till now not realized she had.

_Taptaptaptaptap_

Raven would stand like that for many more hours, waiting for a reply that would not come.

* * *

An inarticulate scream of rage slipped from Raven’s lips as she hurled her scroll across the room. It bounced off of the fabric of her tent, somehow managing to land perfectly atop the pile of pillows she had discarded into the floor the night before, robbing her of the catharsis of shattering it. Outside, a guardsman on the way back from his bathroom break missed a step, his eyes darting fearfully towards their leader’s tent. It wasn’t often that Raven lost control of her temper in such a way, but it always spelled danger for those that caught her attention when she did. The guard quickened his pace.

Raven’s chest heaved as she panted angrily. It had been three days. _Three. Days._ She had heard nothing back from Qrow, and at this point, she wasn’t sure if that was out of some vindictive refusal to inform her or a complete lack of understanding as to what she was talking about. Perhaps it was some cruel mixture of both. Regardless, she knew she was sick of it. The chip in her psyche – the gap where Summer used to be – gnawed at her. She had acclimated to it somewhat, but she was beginning to think that it would drive her insane in time. It was bad enough she was gone. For Raven to not know why or how? She couldn’t stand it.

There was another number on her scroll, of course. _He_ was sure to know what had happened, and he was almost assuredly going to respond. He had always been reliable like that. But Raven didn’t want to speak to him. She hadn’t spoken to him in almost nine years, and that was not a streak she had any desire to break now.

Still…this ignorance? It was unacceptable. She could not, _not_ know! She had to understand! She had to know! Did she deserve to? Raven didn’t know. That question was beyond her. Certainly, she knew people who would say that she did not, but their opinions did not matter to her. They never had. Summer…

Summer would tell her. She was sure of that. If Summer were here. If Qrow or…Raven shook herself. If someone else were in Summer’s place, Summer would tell her what she wanted to know. Summer would think that Raven deserved that.

Raven growled. _Omen_ lay to her right, propped up in the corner of her tent. She had not touched her weapon in three days. She was terrified to hold it. Terrified that the urge to try again would overtake her. Terrified that she would slice her blade through the air, Summer’s face in her mind’s eye and that nothing would happen.

Tentatively, Raven reached out to grasp it. Its weight, normally comfortable and reassuring in her grip, threatened to drag her to the floor. It had never been heavier. She twisted her hand around the weapon’s pommel, toying at unsheathing it, yet unable to bring herself to do so. It was there – the urge. She had been right.

With a conscious effort, Raven stilled her hand and tightened her grip on her weapon. It was a simple act, she knew. A simple slash through the air. The rest of her connections were alive and well. She could sense their presence, as assuredly as she could sense Summer’s absence. There was nothing stopping her.

It would have to be Qrow. The other two were…out of the question. Her brother would not be happy to see her – he never was – but Qrow’s displeasure would be nothing compared to Raven’s if she were forced to confront her old partner. Let alone if she caught sight of…

Raven grit her teeth, _Omen_ slashing through the air, tearing a bleeding scratch into the fabric of space as it went. Raven took in the sight of the pulsating, red portal in front of her and gulped nervously. She was relieved to see it. She of course knew, rationally, that there was nothing to prevent her from opening a portal to Qrow or…the others, but it brought a great sense of relief to her to see the proof in front of her. She sheathed _Omen_ , the red blade sliding silently into its sheath. Answers were only a step away, but still she hesitated.

Where was Qrow? All her training with her semblance, and she had never managed that. She had never been able to sense her connections’ locations

Where was Qrow? What was he doing? Was he relaxing in some rathole apartment somewhere? Was he drowning in a bottle? Was he – gods forbid – on a mission for Ozpin? Qrow didn’t enjoy her presence on the best of days, let alone when he was deep behind enemy lines, alert, stressed and tired. There was every possibility he would attack her out of sheer surprise, and there was nothing to say he wouldn’t keep attacking her simply because it was her.

Still, Raven thought, shifting her feet. Her alternative was a look of rapprochement, likely followed by a bear hug that would last for far longer than was comfortable and that she wouldn’t return. There’d be poor jokes, sarcasm that was apparently _supposed_ to be biting, and the unbearable look of forgiveness. And that was not to mention the hopeful, happy stare of lilac eyes.

Raven set her jaw and stepped eagerly through the portal. Let Qrow attack her. She would take the clashing of steel over the clashing of eyes any day of the week.

Stepping through the portal was very much like stepping through an open doorway. People who had seen her make use of her semblance assumed it was accompanied by some kind of uncomfortable feeling, like walking through cold water or sticky molasses. Summer had once told her she was convinced that Raven walked through a realm of nightmares when she used her portals, and that, that was what made her so cranky all the time. None of that was true, however. Raven merely stepped through one portal and exited another. If she had her eyes closed, she’d have no way of knowing she had done it.

Almost instantly, Raven breathed a sigh of relief. The crunch of dead and fallen leaves underneath her feet painted an immediately warm picture. If Qrow was on a mission for Ozpin, he was at least within the confines of the Kingdom, well away from the nightmares of the Grimmlands. Raven took in her surroundings with a practiced eye. She was in a forest, albeit a sparse one. The trees here were thick, sturdy and resolute, stretching dozens of feet into the sky, but that was all there was. There were no hopeful saplings attempting to climb their way out of the ground, nor were there smaller trees of different breeds in the shadows of their parents. It was all very uniform, like an artist had only known how to draw one type of tree. This was an old forest, not willing to partake in the frivolities that new youth would bring. There wasn’t even any undergrowth beneath her feet, evidence that wherever she was, it was well trodden. That was good. There were less chance of Grimm.

Then Raven turned her head and saw the house. She was unable to keep her eyes from widening to comedic proportions. Her hand tightened around _Omen’s_ pommel, whether out of an urge to run or a deep seeded habit. She didn’t know. Either way, she did not unsheathe the blade, nor did it bring her the comfort her hand was seeking. Why was she _here?_ She had opened a portal to _Qrow!_ Not-Not _him!_ Why was she in _Patch!?_

Memories surfaced unbidden. Memories of her trips here in her youth, with her team and without them. Memories of nights spent cursing her partner’s name as she sweated in the ungodly heat. Patch always had the worst humidity in Remnant. Raven growled, shaking her head as if she could toss the memories out of her head with the action. She didn’t want to think of Patch. She didn’t want to think of _him._ She _certainly_ didn’t want to think of _them._

And the last time she had been here…what she had done…the child she had left…

Raven’s closed fist connected roughly with the sturdy bark of a tree beside her. Her Aura coalesced into a shimmering red shield, robbing her of the focus that pain may have brought. She cursed silently, glaring at her hand. She would have welcomed the pain. Pain was better to focus on then the memories. Physical pain was easy. Emotional pain…she’d never been good at that.

Why was she here? She couldn’t help thinking it again. She’d been so careful! She’d had Qrow’s face in her head when she opened the portal, stupid, stubby beard and all. Why had it brought her to…Raven hung her head. Of course. Of course! Of course the idiot was here. The biggest bromance in Remnant, they’d been called and not for no good reason. There were more than a few times strangers had assumed her twin was the involved one.

She grimaced. She couldn’t be here. It was too dangerous, too close. She would have to find her answers elsewhere or else wait to get them later. If she saw him…if she saw _her_ …she couldn’t do it. _Omen_ scraped against the metal edge of its sheath, ringing rather more loudly than she would have liked as it slid out. She hoped Qrow was too drunk to hear that. She hoped _he_ hadn’t been listening for it.

Sparing the wooden cabin one last saddened look, Raven raised her weapon, prepared to tear a hole in reality again.

“Who are you?”

Raven froze. The voice had come from behind her, out of her sight. It was so small. So tiny. It could only be…no. No, fate couldn’t be _that_ cruel. Slowly, so slowly, Raven turned, her eyes falling downward in a continuous motion as she did. No voice that small would be able to rise above her knee, surely. Raven, to her shame, released a choked sob when she saw her, one mixed with pain and _relief._

It wasn’t her. Fate had spared her that pain. Wherever that thick wild mane of blonde hair was, it was not stood before her in the middle of the woods, wondering up at her. This head of hair was so deeply red that it appeared almost black, and the eyes that accompanied it weren’t lilac but silver. She was tiny, but not fearful, staring up at her with open curiosity and not a hint of mistrust. Like mother like daughter. Summer had always been trusting to a fault.

Slowly, so slowly, Raven lowered her weapon, but she did not sheath it. The little girl in front of her hadn’t moved since she’d asked her question, apparently content to wait for Raven to answer. Raven was finding it difficult to do that. The child – who could be no more than six – was so…distracting. She had never seen such a picture perfect copy of one’s own mother before. Summer’s hair, Summer’s eyes, Summer’s face, Summer’s petite figure. She had suffered through a slideshow of baby pictures once, and if she wasn’t absolutely sure about the limitations of her semblance, Raven might have thought she’d time travelled to Summer’s childhood. Looking at her, Raven could see nothing of her father in this child. Only Summer.

Still, Raven mused, at least Qrow _finally_ got into Summer’s pants. If Raven were the type to think such things, she might have thought the child cute, and if she were the type to continue such thoughts, she might have smugly attributed it all to the Branwen genes. But she was not the type to think such things, and so she didn’t.

Seemingly, the little girl had grown tired of Raven’s silence. “My name’s Ruby. Do you know my dad?”

Raven opened her mouth, only to close it again. There was a lot she could say to that question. A lot she would enjoy saying. A lot she probably should avoid saying. “Yes,” she settled on, the word coming out slowly and hesitantly.

Ruby, though, reacted as if she had just gifted her a puppy with one hand and a pony with the other, releasing from her tiny little lips a gasp of epic proportions. She began to jump up and down in place, clapping as she did. Raven resisted the urge to shrink back from such excitement. “Do you know my Uncle Qrow too!” she cried, seemingly far more excited to discuss her Uncle than her father.

Wait…

“Your _Uncle_ Qrow?” Raven stressed. “Who’s your…” Raven trailed off with a growl, cutting furious eyes at the back wall of the cabin. She sighed angrily. “Tai…”

“That’s my dad’s name!” Ruby contributed happily.

“I know,” Raven sniped. She closed her eyes. Being bitchy was one thing but being bitchy to a six-year-old was probably a step too far, even for her. “I used to be…friends with him.”

“ _And_ Uncle Qrow?” Ruby pressed, again seeming to take more joy in the notion that she knew her Uncle than that she knew her father. Raven wanted to laugh. She could imagine what an annoyance _that_ was to Tai.

Instead, she only smiled mischievously down at her. “My name’s Raven.”

Ruby, a hand rising to cover her mouth, gasped dramatically. “That’s _another type of bird._ ”

This time, Raven did laugh, unable to help the bubble of amusement that rose up in her chest. “Yes,” she agreed, still smiling sardonically. “He’s my little brother.”

“Uncle _Qrow_ has a big sister too!?”

Raven frowned, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Qrow had never told her, then. Nor had Tai. That…was expected, she supposed. She had made her own bed, after all.

“Are you like Yang?”

Raven’s bubble burst, a true grimace settling onto her face.

Little Ruby was frowning too, the petulant little pout only six-year-olds could pull off. Idly, she kicked at a stone with her little foot. “She’s always telling me what to do,” she groused. “And beating me up.”

Almost painfully, Raven fixed another smile onto her face. “I used to beat up Qrow too. All the time.” _Still do occasionally_ , she thought somewhat vindictively.

Ruby giggled. “That’s funny.” She paused then, and something flashed across her silver eyes too quickly for Raven to register. But when she looked back up at her, little Ruby’s face was alight with curiosity and hope. “Hey. If you’re Uncle Qrow’s sister…does that mean you’re my Aunt Raven?”

Raven couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “You’re _just_ like your mother.” And she was. It was just like Summer to call a perfect stranger that she’d only met minutes ago family. Raven should know. She’d been one of those strangers once upon a time. There had been times where Summer had called her sister with far more eagerness and affection that Qrow ever had.

Oh, but too late Raven realized that had not been the thing to say at all. There was no smile on Ruby’s face now, and she was staring intently at her shoes, refusing to meet her eye again. She kicked again at that same pebble. “You knew my mom?” she asked lowly.

 _I know your dad and your uncle, don’t I?_ she wanted to snipe. _Of course I knew your mother,_ she wanted to snark. “Yes,” she said instead, in exactly the same slow and hesitant voice as before.

Ruby was silent for a moment, and when she next spoke, it was so quiet that Raven almost missed it. “I miss her.”

Although for the life of her, Raven would not be able to say why she did it, something possessed her to crouch down onto her knee and lay a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. Ruby looked at it strangely, as if it wasn’t there. Or perhaps she too found it amusing how big Raven’s hand looked on her miniscule shoulder. “I do too.”

Ruby huffed, the sound bringing a smile to Raven’s face that she was quick to smother, lest the child see it. No child that small should be capable of such an annoyed and cynical noise. “People keep telling me she’s gone,” she whined. “But they won’t tell me where she went. They won’t tell me why she won’t come back.”

Raven’s fist clenched, and she exercised an enormous amount of self-control to keep the hand on Ruby’s shoulder from doing likewise. She’d likely have shattered the girl’s shoulder if she had. Unfortunately, the self-control it took to do that seemed to rob her of the ability to keep the grimace off her face, and Ruby shrank back from her. Raven scrunched up her face. She was annoyed. She was sad. She was, she would admit, terrified. And now she was, for some reason, consoling a small child who until only a few moments ago, she had not known existed. This was arguably the last place in the world she wanted to be, and the thought occurred to her that she was perfectly capable of opening a portal and vanishing into thin air.

But…

In another life…This girl – this tiny, pathetic, sad, little girl – would have been her goddaughter. She could still remember it so clearly. Summer, the tiny, pathetic little thing she had been in her own right, bouncing up and down on her bed and babbling about children. Raven had grit her teeth through the whole thing, rolling her eyes when Summer made her promise – _“Promise, Raven!”_ – that they would be the godmothers of each other’s firstborn children. Raven…hadn’t kept her promise.

She wanted to curse. She wanted to rage. To scream. But all that would do is frighten Ruby at best or alert Qrow and Tai at worst. If Summer were alive, she’d be laughing. Hell, even dead she was probably laughing. If Raven were one to believe in ghosts, she’d swear Summer had set this whole thing up just to mock her.

 _Godmother_. It was ridiculous really. The last time she had seen Summer…she still remembered how Summer had screamed when _Omen_ had bit into her stomach, carving a gaping wound from her hip to just below her breast. Raven had been pregnant then, even if she hadn’t realized it. Her child’s _godmother,_ and Raven had been fairly certain she’d robbed the woman of the ability to have children.

And yet…

She opened her eyes, her face relaxing into the same mask of cool indifference she was most accustomed to wearing. Ruby eyed her warily, but it was the wariness of a puppy who’d just had its tail stepped on. Hurt, but still pitifully trusting.

“Sometimes people go away,” she said lowly, turning her gaze away from Ruby’s pathetically innocent face. There was too much Summer there. “Sometimes they go away, and they don’t come back. And that…sucks.”

Ruby’s hand reached up and rubbed angrily at her eyes, doing little more than splattering her tears all across her cheeks.

Raven swallowed thickly. “And when they go away –” Raven cut herself off, cursing silently at the choked sound of her own voice. She forced herself to swallow the emotion. “When they go away, the only thing we can do is remember them. You have to remember the good things they did. The good things they leave behind.”

Lightly, she tapped Ruby’s chin with her knuckles, prompting the girl to finally look up at her again. And Raven smiled perhaps the widest smile she’d smiled in years. “I think she left behind a pretty good thing.”

Ruby smiled, looking away from her as she blinked away tears. Raven smiled at that too. Not so much Summer in her then, if she was hiding tears. That was always more her and Qrow. Gods knew that Tai was more than willing to tear up around people.

“Hey Ruby,” she said gently, “you wanna see something cool?”

Raven watched as Ruby very unsubtly swallowed her own emotions before nodded in the overexuberant way children thought they always had to nod. “Yes, please.”

Raven snorted at the politeness. “Okay,” she agreed, slipping easily into her more severe face and voice. “But it’s a secret. Our secret.”

Ruby bobbed her head again, just as eagerly.

“ _Just_ us, Ruby,” Raven pressed. “You can’t tell your dad. You can’t tell your Uncle Qrow. Nobody.”

“Not even Yang?” Ruby whined.

 _“No!”_ Raven snapped, far more harshly than she intended. She closed her eyes as Ruby flinched, sighing loudly. Gently, she reached out to pat Ruby’s head reassuringly. “Not even Yang. It’s _our_ secret, okay?”

This time, Ruby’s nod was slower, but Raven accepted it all the more for that fact.

Nonetheless, she persisted. “You promise?”

In response, Ruby held out her little fist, pinky extended. _“Pinky_ promise,” she said in all seriousness.

Raven fought valiantly against the smile that threatened to break across her face, but she knew she was unable to keep the humor out of her eyes. Oh well. Six-year-olds weren’t that perceptive anyway. Raven balled up her own fist, extending her pinky exactly as Ruby had, and locked their two fingers together in a strong grip. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she reached out. Her aura flared, warming her skin as it manifested, pulsing an angry red that crept slowly up her arm until it reached her finger and sparked off of Ruby’s own aura. The little girl gasped, and Raven smiled. Her mother had reacted exactly the same way when she’d connected them.

When Raven stood, she did so happily, a sense of peace in her heart. She could still feel Summer’s absence. She would always feel her absence. But the hole she’d left behind was filled now, by a smaller, miniature version of the woman. As unbelievably ridiculous as it sounded, Ruby Rose would exist forever within Raven’s heart.

She winked down at the girl. “Surprise time.”

And then she gripped _Omen_ tightly, slicing it through the air with practiced ease as she wrenched open another portal that would carry her swiftly back to her tribe. Ruby gawked. “What is it?” she asked in wonder.

Raven pondered how best to answer that question. The metaphysics of her semblance would probably bore a child. She shrugged. “A door,” she told her simply. “To you, if I want. Or your Uncle. Or…even your dad.”

Ruby stared at her in wonder. “You can…open a door to anyone?”

Raven shook her head. “No. Only family.”

Ruby beamed, and Raven smiled. _Omen_ slid back into its sheath. She had not found the answers she had been looking for when she’d come here, but she suspected Qrow – however bitter he was – would get the answers to her in time. In the meantime, she had, perhaps, found something better. She only managed a single step towards the portal, before, “Aunt Raven, wait!”

Raven rolled her eyes again. She supposed she deserved that. She _had_ called the girl family. Raven didn’t answer, but she did turn back to stare at the girl inquisitively.

Little Ruby wrung her hands nervously. “Will I,” she hesitated. “Will I see you again?”

Raven stared at the girl for a long moment, her face expressionless. She knew better than to answer that question. “Goodbye, Ruby,” she said instead, trying desperately to make her voice as kind as possible. Then, she smirked mischievously and tapped her nose twice. “Remember. Our secret.”

Then, she was gone.


End file.
